


Jump the Wall

by queenamyrulez (skinman)



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: AU, Brothers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family, Holiday, Parents, Wedding, another take on the best and most cliche trope of all time:, diverges from late season 2, post-boyle-linetti wedding, pre-det. dave majors, rating to go up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/queenamyrulez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then she thought of Jake, and that was her real downfall. God... she could have made it work with Teddy long enough to not have to go alone to this wedding. Now she could see Jake in her mind’s eye; that same dumbfounded, awestruck expression he’d worn the night she broke up with Teddy, the moment he’d found out how she felt.</p><p>“Amy that’s great!” Ruth finally spoke up, now genuinely interested in the conversation given that they were no longer talking about fine lace and invitation fonts, “What’s his name?” </p><p>...</p><p>Amy Santiago gets herself in a tight spot and has to ask Jake for a big favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump the Wall

 

 

Why was she panicking? This was nothing. She’d faced down murderers. She could handle a few hours chatting with these women. All those undercover assignments meant her fake smile was full-proof and her aptitude for pretending to be interested in small talk was off the charts.

“You’re going to sweat off your make-up, Amy. Chill out.” Kylie muttered, leaning over the sink to layer on some more eyeliner.

Kylie had dragged her out. Amy had been busy concocting an excuse to get her out of the event when her friend had swooped in to intervene. Amy had been thinking she could claim a work emergency? Seeing as Amy Santiago simply does not get sick. Both a blessing and a curse. However, she’d used the ‘it’s a work thing’ excuse the last five times she’d been invited out, they were getting suspicious, and this time round the stakes were a little higher; it seemed she wasn’t wriggling out that easy.

_‘You are not leaving me alone with them again.’_

Kylie was Amy’s oldest friend, and the only person she’d maintained any real contact with after graduating College. Now it looked like, not for the first time, one of her brothers was making things extremely difficult for her.

This ‘situation’ was something Amy had managed to keep her distance from so far. She had so many brothers and they almost never seemed to be in one place at any one time, so it was pretty easy to just avoid coming home when Martin and his… girlfriend were there. Preferring to converse with her brother in occasional text and e-mail conversations or visit unannounced when she knew his significant other was working, rather than risk actually facing ‘the problem’ in person. Now she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

And it all came down to a sparkling 18 carat rose gold engagement ring.

Marty had proposed to Grace seven months ago, on a Sunday. She’d got the call on the following Tuesday morning from her mother. Amy could have sworn she could hear Ana Santiago’s wide smile through the phone. Her favourite brother was getting hitched, and that meant Amy better get used to Grace being around if she didn’t want to have to call in sick to the next Santiago family Christmas.

The ‘problem’ was Grace. Grace Tyler. Amy almost felt bad calling her that; a problem. Things were just… complicated. Grace had always tried to be pretty polite to Amy. They’d been friends through college, shared an apartment at one point, but it had always been a more ‘friend of my friends’/frenemy situation. They’d never been close. Amy had always thought it was because they were so different… but what had always been apparent is that they were both incredibly and ruthlessly competitive. Most people, if they weren’t the best, they let it slide. They tried again next time. They moved on. Not Amy Santiago, certainly not 18 year old Amy, that girl felt she had something to prove. Only the third child of eight to go to college she was determined to make it count. She wanted to be top of the class, course representative, student administrator, and graduate with honours. Grace was possibly the only person on campus just a driven. As was to be expected, they butted heads. Or, rather, their indirect feud, complete with polite small talk, small pleasantries, and finished off with just a smidge of backstabbing, consumed Amy’s college experience. When Grace had been voted in as Course Rep over Amy, Amy got drunk one night, and when she was drunk she got confident and petty, and so she drew some… inappropriate doodles on Grace’s dorm room wall in permanent marker. When Amy won her role as Student Administrator over Grace in their final year, she came home to the apartment they shared with these other girl’s Amy was seeing today, to find her favourite mug broken. It was just siting openly on the counter, the handle had been snapped right off. At that point Amy had decided to be the bigger person, choosing to end it there and not to retaliate.

The drama of it all had driven Amy to distraction. The little digs they made, taking every second chance to take each other down a peg or two. The moments in which they pointed out each other’s flaws masqueraded as friendly advice.

They eventually graduated and seemed to make a silent agreement not to interfere in each other’s lives any further.

And then nine years later Marty met Grace and ruined it.

Despite everything Amy still had a lot of respect for Grace. She’d just have preferred to never see her again, and her brother marrying the girl did not help her to that end.

Bottom line: she still had this insatiable urge to be better than Grace in any and every way possible. Which was why she avoided her. She just… couldn’t beat her. Grace had everything. She’d gone to law school, worked her steady way up a law firm’s ranks, made a lot more money than Amy, and on top of that she was engaged to Sergeant Martin Santiago, all round great guy and Amy’s long-time idol.

Growing up Amy had been closest with Alex and Martin, the two brothers closest to her in age. Alex was a mere eleven months older and Martin just over two years. Alex had been born in September and Amy in the July of the following year, so they’d been sorted into the same year group at school. Everyone had assumed they were twins and when they’d both skipped fourth grade, meaning she was the only nine year old in fifth, he’d taken it up as his duty to help her fend off the eleven year olds. Comparatively, by the time Amy was walking and talking her eldest brother, Francisco, was already a teenager, so it wasn’t until Amy was nearly an adult that they formed a friendship. When she was tiny her five oldest brothers had been too preoccupied messing around and playing ‘big kid games’ to sit on the carpet, legs crossed, and try to make her giggle via peekaboo. Amy could only ever remember a three year old Marty doing that. Despite the tiny age difference Amy almost felt that Marty had raised her and Alex.

With their parents working a lot it had mainly been the three of them, her, Alex, and Martin, liberally babysat by their nonchalant older brothers who let them do anything; making forts out of blankets and pillows in Hugo and Luis’ bunk bed, sneaking in to play on Dylan’s new PlayStation when he was out with his friends, attempting to make and burning Disney themed sugar cookies. Her parents had come home to find their three youngest sat on the floor of the kitchen nibbling burnt Bambi cookies, covered in flour, as a 19 year old Francisco desperately tried to figure out how to turn the screeching fire alarm off.

_“So what do you think, Detective? You proud of me?” He shimmed smugly toward her in order to show off the emblem on his chest to its full potential._

Amy had never seen Marty smile wider. He’d wanted to be a police sergeant since he was 15 years old. Both Amy and he used to sit on the floor and listen to their Abuelo, Grandpap Mauri, tell over-embellished stories of the things he’d seen and experienced as a NYPD officer. Marty had known who he wanted to be since then, no doubts, no hesitation.

 _“Handcuffing bad guys for money sounds pretty sick.”_ Had been his only explanation when he’d been asked why he was entering the police academy.

Amy wished she had a story like that. Because she hadn’t known what she was going to do till she was 20. She’d taken classes in law, art history, psychology; she’d wondered about law school, if she could afford it, which she couldn’t. That had been the crushing truth. It was a struggle to keep her head above water at college funding wise. Her parents had saved up her whole life just so she could go to college, period, and even then she’d had a scholarship to pay for tuition. Law scholarships that would cover her needs entirely did not exist. Amy Santiago, law student, was a mere pipe dream.

Marty had inspired her; though she’d never admit his stories, his passion for the job, had made her wonder _‘maybe…_ ’, after all, she loved rules, writing reports, and solving puzzles. She’d never seen Marty look more touched than when she told him her plan.

And she’d been so proud of him when he made Sergeant.

She remembered the bet they’d made the day she’d graduated the academy.

_‘Last one to make Detective has to buy the other season tickets.’_

_‘That’s not fair you got a head start!’_

_‘Chicken.’_

_‘You’re such a child… I’m in.’_

He made Detective six years later, but so did Amy, one month apart. He came to cash in his winnings only to have her argue that they hadn’t specified if they were doing it by time since the bet began or age when made Detective, because in the latter case she’d won. At 28 she was the youngest female officer to be made a detective in New York in eight years. In the end they just bought their own tickets, split the money for a third one, and dragged Alex along with them.

_Amy flicked his shiny new Sergeant’s badge good naturedly and failed to hold back a grin, “Suits you Sarge.” She stared a little too long, taking in the sight of it and feeling a sudden sense of irrational incompetence._

_“Hey,” Martin hit her lightly on the arm, before pointing to his own face, “Eyes up here.”_

_Amy laughed lightly, eyes crinkling as she smiled up at her big brother. Matching dark eyes. Amy looked most like Luis, both children took heavily after their mother, but she and Marty definitely had the same eyes, complete with that same spark of sheer determination._

_Marty sighed loudly, placing his hands on her shoulders, “You’ll be next Manita.”_

He’d sounded so assured, and Amy had chosen to believe him.

This was how she’d ended up standing in front of a mirror in a fancy restroom in The Plaza working up the nerve to sit down for brunch with a group of women she had slowly mastered avoiding.

“Time to face the music, you haven’t seen them in over a year remember so… they’re going to have questions. Did you RSVP on the invitation?”

“Yes.” Amy answered maybe too forcefully, actually a little offended that Kylie didn’t seem to know her at all. It would be too late to RSVP now, the wedding was only weeks away.

“Day you got it, right?” Kylie smirked.

Amy sent her a hard stare, but the corners of her lips turned upward slightly. Maybe Kylie did know her after all.

 

* * *

 

“I think with weddings it’s always best to go for quietly ornate over making a statement. My mother encouraged me to add lace sleeves to my dress and I’m so glad.” Jess enthused, eyes glittering, completely in her element.

Amy nodded like she knew what Jess was saying and then tacitly caught Kylie’s eye to share a look of commiseration. Jess was lovely, but Amy could only take so much.

The six women were sat around a small, circular breakfast table, complete with fine cutlery and china, cloth napkins draped across their laps. There were a fair few people eating around them, but the noise was low, voices getting lost in the wide spaces, a high ceiling hanging far above Amy’s head. Grace politely answered question after question, mostly from Jess and Farah.

“So what font have you chosen for the place cards?” Farah asked in a chipper tone.

Amy felt a small part of herself die. Any more talk about wedding details and she was out. She was considering excusing herself to go to the restroom when another voice spoke out.

“Excuse me. I’m just going to pop to the ladies.” Kylie smiled tightly and pushed out her chair.

 _‘Traitor’_ Amy thought.

‘Sorry,’ Kylie mouthed at her friend as she scuttled off.

“Oh,” Grace shrugged, “I don’t know I let Marty choose.”

Jess scoffed, “I would never trust Dion to do that; he has a terrible eye. If I let him choose everything would be Times New Roman.” The woman laughed and the others followed her lead.

“Tragic.” Amy muttered under her breath.

Maybe a trick of the light, but Amy could almost swear Grace’s lips curved into a tiny smile where she was sat on her left.

“Oh, Dion can make it then?” Farah piped up.

Obviously this had a topic of conversation at a previous meet-up Amy had missed.

Jess smiled sadly in response, “He has to leave the night of the wedding to get back for a meeting on the Monday but yeah. He has this big premonition coming up, hopefully, so… he needs to be there.”

“So,” Grace made to draw attention away from Jess’s husband, and Amy couldn’t blame her, “Amy, who are you bringing?”

“Hm?” Amy looked the perfect deer in the headlights, huge doe eyes and all.

“I noticed the plus one, and Marty mentioned a few months ago you have a boyfriend.” Grace seemed genuinely interested. Was she trying to catch her out? Or did she really not know the awkward position she was putting Amy in. Actually… maybe Amy hadn’t mentioned her break-up to Marty?

Teddy. When She’d RSVP’d she’d assumed Teddy would still be part of her life 6 months later.

“Uh huh.” Amy nodded.

Her brain was set to Defcon 1. What was she doing? Well, technically, she was quickly weighing up what was worse, lying, or having to admit to these women, all of which were in long-term committed relationships, that she’d screwed up again. But mainly she was just freaking out.

Then she thought of Jake, and that was her real downfall. God... she could have made it work with Teddy long enough to not have to go alone to this wedding. Now she could see Jake in her mind’s eye; that same dumbfounded, awestruck expression he’d worn the night she broke up with Teddy. The moment he’d found out how she felt.

“Amy that’s great!” Ruth finally spoke up, now genuinely interested in the conversation given that they were no longer talking about fine lace and invitation fonts, “What’s his name?” 

“Ja-“ Amy faltered, “Te-” She stumbled again.

“Jater?” Farah tried to repeat back, an eyebrow raised quizzically.

Amy felt something inside her snap, and she seemed to lose control of all reasonable thought… and of her mouth, “Jake.” She quickly bit down on her tongue, wincing but hiding it well.

The women all looked at her expectantly.

“Jake... Jacob Peralta.” Amy’s heart was going fast, it was thrumming. Why could she not stop talking? She could barely breathe. She needed to get out. Now. She could still save this. _‘Just say “But we broke up”, Amy. Say it!’_ Her brain was screaming at her.

Well at least today couldn’t get worse.

“Oh, yeah.” Grace broke into a smile that somehow both terrified and comforted Amy simultaneously, “That’s your partner right? Marty's worked with him a few times, he mentioned you talk about him a lot.”

“What?” Amy voice squeaked just a little, “Noooo. I don’t think- I don’t… talk about Jake… a lot.” Her throat was seriously dry and she could swear her brain was trying to escape out through the base of her skull. “Would you just excuse me a moment? Kylie’s been gone really long, right? Weird.” Amy’s eyes bulged a little as she scrambled to stand, “I’m going to go check… on her. Right now.”

 

* * *

 

“Damn, man, no more than one person at any one time, they’ll get suspicious.” Kylie complained, looking up from her phone as Amy burst through the restroom door and slammed it hard behind her.

“Kylie, I did something really stupid and I need you.” Amy said pointedly, flushed and flustered from head to toe.

“Oh my god,” Kylie stepped away from the wall, and covered her mouth with her hand, “Did you insult Jess’s new haircut?”

“No!” Amy sent the other woman a sharp withering look.

“Good, I wanted to be the one. What’s up?”

“I forgot I RSVP’d for a plus one.” Amy began, gritting her teeth at the memory of what had happened only mere minutes ago.

“Shit, did you mention the break-up? Did you say something embarrassing? Did you bring up Teddy?” Kylie gasped, “Did you tell them about how he shaves his toes?”

“Would you please take this seriously?” Amy gestured with her hands furiously before folding them and taking a deep breath.

“Ok, ‘seriously’, what did you do?”

Amy cringed, feeling her ribcage tighten as she recalled it, “I told them I was bringing… someone.”

Kylie squinted, “Okay, so what? Teddy’s gone, just bring a friend… how about the guy from your work who’s completely stacked?” Her eyes wandered as if her focus was elsewhere.

“Terry? What? No.”

Amy’s answer seemed to fly over Kylie’s head, “Just think he would look good in a tux. I was wondering is he with-”

“Married. Father of two. Uninterested.” Amy said bluntly. “Listen,” she gulped, “I may have kind of told them I was dating Jake.”

“What?” Kylie mouth fell open, the laughter momentarily disappearing from her expression. It quickly returned though, “How does that even happen?”

“Grace mentioned I asked for a plus one and I was so embarrassed about the break-up and Jake was kind of on my mind, urgh… I just didn’t want to seem pathetic.”

Kylie crossed her arms and observed her friend pointedly, “So you made up a fake relationship?”

Amy covered her face with her hands, a muffled question followed “What do I do?”

“Just call in a week or so and say you broke up.” Kylie offered.

Amy winced, “Marty knows Jake! He’s going to bring it up. It’s going to come out. It’s going to be messy. Jake’s going to get weird about it. This is a disaster.”

“Or…” Kylie leant up against the sink, brows furrowed. “You could just tell Jake the truth and ask him to go with you. Just explain what happened. He kind of still owes you for inviting Teddy on that trip anyway. Cash that in, offer him a free long weekend at a nice resort in Mexico; who would say no to that anyway?”

There was a short, shocked silence.

“You mean… actually take Jake with me?” Amy clarified, half expecting Kylie to crack and laugh and tell her she was only joking.

But she didn’t. “Sure.”

“As in, lie to my entire family?” Amy continued.

“You don’t have to ‘lie’ per se. Just let their assumptions do all the work. You and Jake flirt all the time anyway it’s not like it’ll take much selling.” Kylie pointed out.

Amy looked scandalised, “I do not- I don’t… I resent that.”

“Look, if Jake’s in on it Marty won’t find out. No one has to know.” Kylie whispered the last sentence.

“My mother is the nosiest woman on earth.” Amy pointed out.

“You know she’s going to be too focused on Marty to pay attention to you and Jake. Her favourite kid is getting hitched!” Kylie exaggerated.

“Uh,” Amy huffed, holding up a hand defensively, her slightly smug side surfacing, “favourite son. She was so desperate to have me she had six extra boys.”

“Not the time Amy.”

“Right.” She nodded sharply, face set into a serious expression.

“Okay, time for a game plan.” Kylie grabbed Amy’s upper arms with purpose, “And step one is telling Jake.”

 

* * *

 

“Gina, you know where Amy is?” Jake stopped fiddling and put his toy soldier back down on his desk, eyes flickering from the blue blazer draped over the back of Amy’s chair to the civilian administrator.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Sorry.” The woman drawled, not looking away from her computer screen, quite obviously not ‘sorry’.

“Okay then.” Jake muttered to himself.

Amy’s blazer was here so she was in the precinct… somewhere. She was usually so efficient, her being away from her desk for more than 20 minutes was an anomaly; he’d been here half an hour so far and nothing.

“Hey, Jake, I need you to pull the evidence on the Hodges fraud case. Pronto. As in right now.” Terry walked over from his own desk and dropped a couple of files on Jake’s ‘open’ pile.

The detective groaned as he stood, cracking the joints in his back; he’d fallen asleep on the couch last night during Love It or List It. Though, if anyone asked, he’d been watching basketball.

Jake rolled his shoulders as he strolled down the evidence locker, a green post-it with the case number scrawled on it in barely legible hand-writing in his grip, trying to loosen up the muscles in his back. The light was on when he got there so he simply shut the door behind himself and checked the post-it for which case he was after. Heading for the shelves he held up a box in order to get a good look at the contents of the box underneath.

A hand touched his shoulder, “Jake?”

The man jolted in surprised, his supporting hand flying off the first box which promptly fell and crushed his left hand into the one below. He yelped loudly.

“Oh my god.” Amy flew into action releasing his trapped hand quickly, a guilty and frantic look on her face. “Are you okay?”

Jake held his right hand tightly in his left, “Yeah. Yeah. Luckily I trapped this hand in the microwave yesterday and it’s still pretty numb so.”

Amy recoiled, a dent of worry appearing between her brows, “Don’t you think you should go see a doctor about that?”

Jake shrugged, “I don’t know. Probably.”

The two stood in silence a moment, sizing each other up.

“I… uh…” Amy tried.

“I should probably get this evidence to the Sarge.” Jake gulped, tearing his gaze away from her own and tugging the box out a little way; it was heavier than he’d anticipated.

“Jake.” Amy said, with a little more strength and conviction this time, a slight edge of desperation that weakened his resolve.

“Um hum?” Jake hummed through his tightly pursed lips.

The low lighting, the solitude, her saying his name that way, none of it was helping. They were both single now, everything had settled a bit, he’d been toying with the idea of a relationship with Amy more and more recently. He knew it was complicated and he wanted to do it right, because somehow he was sure she would either be the best or worst romantic decision he ever made. Amy Santiago had the potential to make or break Jake Peralta, he was either going to end his days giggling with her in an old peoples home, or she would leave him and he would spend the rest of his life a pathetically pining old bird man... or snake man. Jake was still weighing the pros and cons of each.

“Jake, do you remember when you were desperate to impress Jenny Gildenhorn.” Amy started off cryptically.

“Sure.” He answered, unsure where this was headed.

“Because there’s this girl I knew at college, right?”

“Right…” Ok, now he was really confused.

“You know when you want to impress someone from your past and you make up stupid lies to try and get one over on them.”

Jake laughed, “Hell yeah. At my high school reunion I got drunk and told everyone I actually worked for Chinese Intelligence. I tried to speak mandarin and insulted many a former classmate. I’m not going to the next one.”

“Smart choice.” Amy agreed.

“Yeah.”

“Anyway.” Amy shook her head and murmured to herself. Taking a deep breath she began, “My brother’s getting married.”

“Marty!” Jake interjected, pointing at her knowingly, a smile spreading across his face, “I heard. The 34th was a-buzzing when I went to pick up a perp from Manhattan a few months back.”

“Uh huh.” Amy wrung her hands together, palms sweaty, “So… I was wondering… would you go? Like, I mean, would you go… with me?”

“Uhhhhhhh…” Jake’s mouth fell open. His brain sort of seemed to shut down a moment. Putting his arm out to lean against the racks he stumbled as his hand hit air. He fell against the shelves with a clang and scrambled to stand up straight again.

Amy grabbed his jacket and helped to haul him back up, hands continuing to grip the leather even when he was back on his feet.

“I sort of assumed when I RSVP’d that I’d still have Teddy when the wedding came round so I asked for a plus one. And, this girl Marty’s marrying, she’s perfect, she’s always been perfect. All our mutual friends are in relationships. I just…”

“Ames,” Jake sighed, “What are you asking me?”

“I sort of… panicked. They asked the name of my boyfriend and I was thinking about you, and Teddy, and the ways things ended.” Amy winced, finally releasing his jacket, “I told them it was you.”

Jake’s mouth opened, then shut. He blew out his cheeks and looked away from Amy, then back again, a slightly pained expression etched onto his features, “Uh huh, right. Cool, cool, cool, cool. Okay.” He nodded awkwardly.

“Peralta, look, I need a big favour and you totally owe me for messing up my meticulously planned break-up procedure.” Amy responded forcefully.

It took Jake a moment but he swallowed his doubts and faced up to the facts; he did owe Amy, he would not hate getting to spend time with her out of work, and weddings always had free food. Maybe this could be okay.

“Just to be clear,” Jake cleared his throat, “you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

Amy made a face, “Ugh, don’t say it like that, that makes me sound super pathetic.”

Jake rediscovered himself, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Amy with one eyebrow raised, “Ok, Santiago, we have a deal. Although…”

“Oh no.” Amy murmured. What did he want?

“This favour definitely surpasses the Teddy thing so you’re still going to owe me a small favour. Deal?”

Amy took Jake’s outstretched hand reluctantly, “Deal.”

“So, should we lay down some rules?” Jake probed, waiting to see her reaction.

Amy’s eyes widened, glinting a little brighter as soon as the word ‘rules’ left his lips. She pulled in a slightly shaky breath, “Yeah, uh… sounds great.”

 

* * *

 

It was not normal to stand outside a friend’s door for 30 seconds deciding on the coolest way to knock. Jake was pretty clear on that, and yet he did it anyway.

“Wow, you’re on time?” Amy looked both impressed and muddled as she opened the door. Seeing her dressed in a loose t-shirt and jogging pants was a reminder of how little he saw her this way; just relaxing at home with no perps to chase or puzzles to solve.

“Wow, did your grandmother have another yard sale?” Jake poked fun, as he always did when he entered her home, at the chosen décor.

“Ha ha. At least I don’t have tomato sauce stains all over my carpet.” With that she sauntered off toward the kitchen.

“Um, they’re bloodstains actually.” Jake tried to rebut, unconvincingly.

“There’s Chinese on the table.” Amy had her back to him but he was sure she was rolling her eyes.

“Noice.” Jake slid into a seat and grabbed the nearest container.

“So, let’s talk rules.” Amy brought over a couple of cups of coffee and sat down opposite him.

Jake nodded, stuffing his face with kung pao chicken.

“Here’s the main one: We make this as professional as possible. Just like we’re undercover.”

“Fair.” Jake commented, licking his lips, “We’ve played a couple a bunch of times, this’ll be easy.”

“…right.” Amy agreed after a moment. “And you have to be the perfect gentlemen, especially in front of my parents.”

“I will charm the pants off them.” Jake assured her, then screwed up his face as he rethought the wording, “That… came out slightly more sexual than I meant it to. Sorry.”

“Ew.” Amy muttered. “Anyway. Rule three; no inappropriate jokes in front of people, okay? This isn’t the nine nine, this is a highly catholic, adult crowd of people. Just save it for when we’re alone.”

Jake almost forgot to respond, suddenly struck by the prospect of being alone with Amy for any lengthy stretch of time. “Sure.” He finally managed.

“Cool.” Amy grabbed some food even though she wasn’t very hungry just to have something to do with her hands.

“So, where and when do you need me?” Jake froze, “I mean… when’s the wedding?”

“Oh, uh. Three weeks. It’s a long weekend at a resort… in Mexico.” Amy watched carefully to see how he’d react.

A familiar slow but wide smile grew on Jake’s face, “This is going to be _so_ awesome!”

Amy ignored his comment, mostly, choosing not to overthink why he was so keen to spend four days stuck on a romantic seaside resort with her.

“Here.” She slid an ornately crafted piece of cream card over the surface of the table.

Jake pried the invitation off the wood with his fingernails. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud, “Herman and Kathryn Tyler request your presence at the marriage of their daughter Grace Elizabeth Tyler to Martίn Elija Santiago. Wow.” He silently read the rest.

“What?” Amy looked up from where she was prodding the noodles in her box with her chopsticks.

“Why does everything about weddings have to be so fancy?” Jake looked genuinely confused, continuing as he tried to stab a piece of chicken with his own utensil, “When I get married there’s going to be no dress code, it’s going to be super chill, and afterward we’re all going to go paintballing, and then it’s off to the honeymoon where all we do is eat room service in bed… among other stuff.”

Amy scoffed, twisting a few noodles as she replied, “Not if I have any say in it.” She looked up to find Jake, having abandoned the piece of meat he’d be trying to procure, staring right at her with this really intense gaze. “You know…” She decided to continue to try and ward of the heavy silence she felt building, “Boyle’s already picked out the colour scheme for your wedding.”

Jake scrunched up his features, “Really?”

“Uh huh,” Amy bit back a laugh at his expression, “Royal blue and gold, like our uniforms.”

“Well, to be fair, Charles has had worse ideas.” Jake pointed out.

“So true.” She fully agreed, finally stuffing some noodles in her mouth.

Jake sighed loudly to get her attention again, a smarmy grin spreading across his cheeks, “You know, Santiago; I’m thinking mini Amy must have had planned her special day in meticulous detail. Tell me… where’s the binder hidden?”

Amy’s eyes narrowed at him.

The truth was, he was wrong. The woman who planned everything had never planned her wedding in any shape or form. Little Amy had never given it much thought, and neither had big Amy. There was no hidden binder, no spreadsheet, not even a magazine cut-out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to think about it, it was just the stress and pressure of it all tended to get to her as soon as she did. Her mother wanted her married so badly, and she was not subtle about it. Ana Santiago was relentless. She’d married off five sons, four of them successfully, and Amy knew her mother couldn’t wait for her only daughter to tie the knot. She wanted to help Amy pick a dress, and see her happy, and coach her through becoming a mother herself. Both her parents were blindingly traditional, and honestly that had never bothered Amy, she liked doing what was expected of her… but this was her life. When her moment came she wanted to cross that bridge with the person she was choosing to spend her life with. Her mother meant well, but she could be seriously over-bearing, especially when it came to Amy’s relationships.

“You realise it’s a sexist fiction that all little girls think about that stuff, Jake.” Amy bit back.

Jake stopped, his jaw going slack and his eyes filling with horror, worried he’d legitimately, deeply offended her, “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Amy folded her arms over her chest defensively, breathing deeply, “This whole plan has me on edge.”

“Ames… why don’t you just call and say we broke up? I promise I won’t spill to Martin and you don’t have to lie to your family.”

The look on Amy face was fierce, but she didn’t seem angry at him, “No. This girl is my Eddie Fung, Jake. For real. We’re going to go to this thing and blow her out the water with how great we are together. Okay?”

Jake moistened his lips, if he was going to overstep… he might as well do it now before they were stuck in Mexico together, “And then what… we go back to being friends?” He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

“Jake…” Amy looked at him like he’d just taken a knife to her heart.

“I should get going. Send me the flight details, okay?” He coughed as he pushed away from the table and stood, an awkward, clammy hand fixing his loose tie.

“Jake, we talked about this.” Amy started, “The stuff with us is-”

“In the past.” Jake finished, “Just making sure. I’m going to- Oh my god.” He never finished, his gaze transfixed as he stared in the direction of the table.

“What?” Amy inquired, her own eyes flicking from his face to the table and back again, unsure of what he was seeing.

Jake reached over and swiped a deep cream coloured enveloped off the surface. It was the one the wedding invitation had come in, just an empty envelope. She couldn’t understand why he was so fascinated.

“Oh my god.” He whispered excitedly, reading.

 _‘Oh no.’_ Amy realised a moment too late, standing up so fast her chair fell over.

“Is your full name Amara Marie?” Jake looked like Christmas had come early. He was practically glowing with delight.

Amy snatched the envelope from his hands. She began to shove him toward the door; he was too busy grinning to put up a fight.

“That’s a definite ‘yes’ then.” He decided as she shoved him out her front door.

“Get out Jake.” She tried to act harsh, but failed, a small smile catching on the corners of her lips. She couldn’t stay annoyed with him when he was grinning like that.

“I already am, Amara. Check! I knew Amy was short for something.” He laughed even as she slammed the door in his face. He moved up as close as he could to the wood and yelled, “It’s a very pretty name!” He was teasing her, but he meant it.

Walking home he scuffed his soles on the asphalt, smiled at the ground, and muttered it under his breath.

 

 


End file.
